


Gifts

by tournee_de_la_ladybug



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Christmas, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, ML Secret Santa, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tournee_de_la_ladybug/pseuds/tournee_de_la_ladybug
Summary: Chat Noir has gone dark - but maybe, just maybe, a gift from Ladybug can help him find the light of Christmas.





	Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a little oneshot that I’ve debated on adding a second piece to, and it’s based on some of the ideas the fandom had that Chat would go dark in season two, mixed with a little Christmas just to give it a little more angst. I hope you like it!

“Wait.”

Wait. Ladybug had said it so many times before – and never when it may have mattered. Wait was a promise – an echo of a long-forgotten truth of a someday when the masks would drop. Wait was a plea – a desperate call for time to slow, to stop dragging at her with violet butterflies and the added burden of glowing green eyes that had once held life in them. Wait was a worthless sentiment – wasted on black felt ears that could no longer hear, and a once-pure heart blackened with something darker than the power of cataclysm.

But once, just once, wait was enough.

She would never quite be sure why he heeded her words that time. 

After months without speaking beyond taunts, desperate questions turned to rage-filled blows as her once-partner-turned-enemy had inexplicably joined Hawkmoth in his quest for the Ladybug miraculous, Chat Noir’s first words to her seemed to have lost all meaning.

He pivoted slowly, as though not expecting her to be there when he turned around. His tail was dragging in the snow, and there was regret in his eyes – a sadness so profound that bore only a tattered shell of his once vibrant nature.

“Why, Ladybug?”

The voice that spoke was so wholly him, and yet, so broken – it was hardly recognizable.

“Why can’t you just give me your miraculous?”

She winced as she took a step toward him, her miraculous cure having not mended the worst of the bruises left beneath her suit. Dazzling Christmas lights shone down from the colorful overhangs of the nearby shops, pools of light gathering on the freshly formed snowbanks. Queen Bee and Rena Rouge had left the scene before the akuma had been captured, having used their respective powers to deal with Paon. Carapace had quickly followed suit, knowing that once the akuma of the day had been defeated and Paon had slunk away to whatever hellhole she’d crawled out of, Chat would retreat without any fuss.

“Does that really need answering?” She broke the silence as she drew ever nearer to him. It was dangerous, and yet, it was clear to her that the fight had left him for the day.

He looked, for all the world, like a worn-out kitten, its fur too thin for the cold and shivering.

She stopped when they were only a few yards away – and though they had been in combat with each other, it felt like the closest they’d been in months. Her earrings beeped shrilly.

He shuffled, words lost on him and his eyes not meeting hers.

The bitter chill seeped through her, but she continued to stare at him – a boy with whom there had once been warmth and light and laughter. A boy who, now, had had that passion and that love ripped from him. A boy who, now, was a walking embodiment of the same darkness he had once wielded, yet now succumbed to.

Faint music played through the crackling stereos hanging aloft from the restaurant doors beside them. Inside, yellow lights cast shadows onto patrons who hadn’t a clue that their city’s former dynamic duo were standing out in the cold.

A puff of white fog escaped her as he started to back away, his teeth gritted together and his hands furiously swiping across his eyes.

And just like that- she closed the distance between them, running up to her partner and wrapping her arms around him as he shook with sobs.

There was an unspoken agreement in that moment of tenderness, that moment where Ladybug was no angel and Chat Noir no demon and balance reigned as the music echoed what was once theirs.

She pulled back, ever-so-slightly, drawing her hands to his cheeks and rubbing away the tears that fell.

“I’m not going to ask you why you’re doing this.” Her voice shook, the words she’d been longing to say getting swept up in the moment. “I’m not going to ask why you want my miraculous, or why you left me for them, Chat, mon minou.”

His breath hitched, face scrunched and fists clenched at his sides.

She didn’t know the answer to any of those things. She didn’t even fully understand the restraint that kept him from reaching out and taking what was so tantalizingly close.

But if there was one thing Ladybug knew - it was that the _hero_ before her was hurting, and merely bearing the impossible as best as he could.

“I only have one question for you, Chaton.” 

Painful scenes rippled through her memory – of snowballs whizzing through the Parisian streets, of hot chocolate and fresh cookies shared on the top of the Eiffel Tower, of laughter, warm and heavy, following wherever they roamed. Memories _together._

“Are you okay?”

She could remember the day he’d settled beside her for a routine patrol, only to lash out moments later with a blackened staff and a silver bell hanging from his neck. She had thought it was just an akuma. She hadn’t realized the truth until it was too late. 

Hawkmoth and Paon had granted him an opportunity to get her Miraculous of his own ability, without their back-up. He had failed, and quickly – his heart not truly in it. They had both come in, then, cornering her. It had only been the unexpected appearance of Queen Bee and Rena Rouge that had saved her that day, she having been unable to take on both her former partner and two villains at once. They were a blessing, and soon Carapace became an invaluable addition.

But it was never… quite the same.

He blinked at her, raising his hands. She tensed, but he merely laid his hands on top of hers. Voice thick, he replied.

“I’m okay, bugaboo.”

Ladybug laughed, the old nickname stirring up some of that warmth that had once bonded them together. Quietly, she teased, “Don’t call me bugaboo.”

They stayed like that for half a moment more, cold reality sinking back in and granting them wisdom. His hands dropped to his sides once more, his gaze painfully drawing over to her miraculous, which was now flashing once more.

“You should go,” he whispered, shaking, but this time not from the cold. Her hands rested on his shoulders, lingering.

She couldn’t give him her miraculous, but just perhaps, she had one small gift for him. A gift that said, I remember – and I will never forget. 

He was taller than she remembered. But as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, the thought melted away. He froze beneath her touch, then lightly drew her closer in the bare bones of an embrace.

“Chat Noir?” 

He was warm, now. Heat had chased away his chill, love and gentleness uncoiling from his bound heart. 

“Merry Christmas.”

He practically had melted onto her, holding her tight, as though even Hawkmoth couldn’t rip her away from him.

“Merry Christmas, Ladybug.”

They stood together until the song came to an end. As if waiting for them, the radio stayed silent for a few moments longer.

Ladybug stilled at the edge of a memory, a brief indulgence that perhaps things weren’t what they were and they’d separate jovially, looking at one another and laughing away the pain that had held them tight – much like they were holding each other tight – for months.

She was so many miles away that she almost didn’t catch the words he whispered in her ear.

“Gabriel Agreste.”

She stiffened, the warmth seeping away to be replaced by the cold of the snow beneath their feet and the chill as they pulled from one another.

She stared unblinking as she tried to make sense of what he had confided in her. “What?”

“Gabriel Agreste. Alice Agreste. And,” voice choking, he finished with a hand on his heart, “Adrien Agreste.”

He had always been generous. And his Christmas gift to her was no exception.

Chat pulled her hands from his shoulders in the moments in between, when the words came together and the wheels turned and locked into place in her clever little head.

“You’re-”

Chat turned, not looking back as he extended his baton and soared away. The words died in her mouth, hand half-extended toward his fleeing form.

_“Adrien…”_ she breathed, a heavy weight settling on her shoulders. Her earrings beeped out a final warning before the mask fell and Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood alone, staring after the boy she had learned to love, both inside and outside the mask.

Marinette wondered, as Tikki dove into her purse and dug out some cookies she had stashed there, how she could have missed the signs. She shuffled in the snow for a moment longer before retransforming and pulling out her yo-yo to contact the others.

Rena Rouge picked up first, the darkness of the room behind her suggesting she had ducked into the closest unoccupied room she could once her kwami had alerted her. Carapace followed quickly – having always followed his Miraculous duties strictly. He must have been caught in something if Rena had managed to beat him to the punch. Queen Bee was a moment longer, but Ladybug had realized her identity long before. Chloe always had had a busy social life.

“What’s up, Ladybug?” Carapace’s voice sounded clearly into the night, and for a moment, Ladybug paused.

Chat had gone in the direction of the mansion – he was sure to have arrived by now, perhaps waiting for her to show up, rallying her avenging team to take down the evil that had plagued Paris for so long.

She replied softly, voice trembling. “I know their identities.”

“What?” Rena squawked, eyes blown wide. She hurriedly clamped a hand over her mouth, glancing up to make sure no one had heard her, wherever she was.

Queen Bee had gone silent. The slightest hint of a victorious smile tilted her lips.

Carapace, however, hesitated. “Are you sure, LB? How do you know?”

“It was a Christmas gift,” she answered, misty eyes locked on the rooftops as the once familiar sensation of a passing umbrella melted into the memory of a fond fistbump. “From a friend.”


End file.
